


permission

by littlestrideer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, uhhhh stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlestrideer/pseuds/littlestrideer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dave does a thing and dirk doesn't like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	permission

**Author's Note:**

> this took me so long to write for my friend i did so much research on this and i am so tired of looking at it  
> so here take it  
> take it far away from me

He's glaring. 

Your grin only grows as he runs a few lights, trying to get to wherever the stupid award show was. At least he gets off easy, you're the one stuck in the monkey suit that feels too small and you're pretty sure he bought it that way to make you more uncomfortable than necessary. You still get the last laugh tonight, though. 

"Can I--"

"No," You cut him off immediately, glancing over at his phone lighting up. Probably another text wondering where the hell he was. "And you spoke out of turn. That's one strike against you."

He scowls, and starts to say something but thinks better of it. You're a little down the road from wherever the event was going on, but the traffic is so clogged you'd be better off walking at this point. But Dave is stubborn, as usual, and sits in the traffic, and you sigh as the minutes tick by. "You know, at this rate we could've just stayed home. I bet you already missed your ten seconds of fame on the red carpet."

"No, I still have another twenty minutes to hog the cameras. Just because the show starts doesn't mean the cameras disappear." Dave retorts as he finally finds the valet parking booth. You hop out of the car after giving yourself a quick glance in the side mirror. It's not like your appearance really matters here. Dave takes a little longer for obvious reasons, and when he does step out he's fidgety. He gives you a glance as he hands off the keys to the valet and you shake your head, already knowing the question before he asks. He huffs and pretends to fix something on his tux as he storms off in front of you. 

"Should be strike two," You murmur, mostly to yourself as you try to keep pace with him. God, the suit pants keep riding up with every step you make. Now you're sure he did it on purpose. 

Check in is the same routine, getting patted down by a bunch of buff smelly cops who probably want to be there as much as you do, and as much as he talked it up, Dave doesn't even stop once on the carpet, though the photographers get their shots anyway. The questions are all overlapping, though mostly the same--"Why won't you stop?" or "What's got you all pissy, Strider?", though your favorite seems to go unnoticed by all but you and Dave. 

"What's that around your neck?"

The second he hears it he nearly freezes up, but continues on into the building. You're quick to follow, and the moment you step in he's already fumbling around to loosen his tie. "Oh come on, we made a deal."

"Yeah, well, you can drive yourself home, I'm not wearing this stupid thing out there. I'll be the biggest joke since Britney Spears." He grumbles, still struggling with his tie. You sigh and move towards him, grabbing his hands a bit tighter than you intended. 

"Now," You push his hands to his sides, then go back to adjust the tie he'd all but unknotted. "You put me in what is probably the worst suit I've ever experienced walking in in my entire life, dragging me to what is probably going to be a very boring show that you'll spend over half the time bugging me and the rest texting or something, just so you can accept maybe two awards over the span of three hours, and you want to back out because I made you wear a--"

"Shh!" He covers your mouth as someone else enters, though they don't notice you two since they're busy angrily speaking into their phone. You lick his hand and he flicks your nose in response, which makes you reach for the bright red dog collar around his neck and pull him down to your level.

He picked it out, to some degree. You let him choose the color and design, which was just simply a basic red collar, but the bone charm that had his name engraved in comic sans on one side and 'Property of D. Strider' along with the address on the other was all you. It was just the right length to sit tight on his neck but not actually choke him. Usually it didn't really leave the house, though tonight was an exception. If you were gonna have to suffer through this, then he would to. If he stopped messing with it, it might not even be so noticable tucked behind his collar. 

"We made a deal, Bro. And backing out of it automatically means you'll hit three strikes and you'll be doing whatever the fuck I want for however long I choose. Do you really want that?" Maybe you're exaggerating, but it gets your point across. He swats your hand away and tucks the collar away, though you hear it jangle as he does so. You cross your arms and start walking off to the entrance, him not too far behind. 

You haven't missed much, honestly. The opening speech is only a few minutes in at your guess, and no one seems to notice as the two of you slip in your seats. It doesn't take long before you become disinterested with the satirical jokes that you are pretty sure you've heard a million times before. Dave seems tense as he watches it all unfold, partly because of your doing though mostly because of the possibility of him winning an award and having to go up there. 

In front of millions of live viewers. 

Still under your command. 

The night drags on, you nearly fall asleep if it weren't for the perfectly placed musical acts blasting in your eardrums. During breaks people come and try to ask you things, trying to talk to your brother. Say things as they walk off and call the two of you rude when you don't answer. You know Dave cares about that stuff. You honestly couldn't care less. 

Hearing Dave's name on the lips of the person on stage grabs your attention. You turn to him, just as he turns to you. A grin grows on your lips as he quickly turns away. More names are called but they don't matter too much. The wait is killing the both of you. 

The envelope is opened. Dave's bouncing his knee rapidly. You're completely calm as the words form on the woman's mouth.  
"And the winner is...Dave Strider, for..."

Applause. The spotlight finds the both of you quickly. He stands fast and crosses in front of you, and you half follow him up, though you decide your seat is just as fine a position for what you'll be doing. 

He takes the award, nearly drops it. Eyes scan the crowd, you can tell even with a few hundred feet and tinted glasses seperating the both of you. He's still silence as they finally meet. Whispers start. He looks like he's shaking. 

The people seem to take it as stage fright, start playing the music for the next transition but he shakes his head and it stops. He clears his throat as his eyes find yours again. You can almost hear him begging, picture him on his knees.

You shake your head no. 

Hesitation. 

"Sorry, I just...wow, this is kind of cool. Honestly don't see how I beat everyone else in my category. I mean, all I do is cut and paste like any other thirteen year old on the internet."

The audience laughs. You scowl.  
He talks for a decent amount of time, shout outs to his friends and yourself, another thank you, and then he's leaving. The moment you can't see him anymore you excuse yourself down the row and make your way towards the car. He's probably nearly there with the way he was walking. 

You can't tell if you're angry that he actually went against you, or if you're proud that he actually went against you. Maybe it's a mix of both, though the anger outweighs the pride you hold for him. He can't even try to be mad because you've warned him time and time again. Honestly, you're a bit shocked it took him so long. It's about time you finally get to try this whole punishing thing out. 

\---

He's in the passenger's seat of the car. 

While you silently applaud him for remembering his place, you feel odd having to remind him you can't drive. You don't have a clean record with following too many rules, but the last thing you want to do is end up getting pulling over for driving angrily, or worse, get into a crash. Better safe than sorry. 

The ride home is pretty quiet, and every time you look at him he flinches. It's subtle, but you always catch it. A slight jump in his shoulder, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. If you weren't so busy trying to think of how to handle him, you might have picked at him for it. There'll always be time to do that, however, so you don't worry much about it. 

You don't even realize he's taking the long way home until you glance at the clock and a twenty minutes drive has turned into nearly an hour. It's hard to tell if he did it purposely or subconsciously, but you just add that to the list just in case. He seems to drive slower once you're in the neighborhood, and he parks like you're going to kill him. Even if that was what you were going to do, you'd probably bring him right back. There wouldn't be too much for you to do if he weren't around. 

You close the door behind you just as you would any other day. He starts for the stairs, then stops on the fourth one, turning and realizing you haven't moved. He raises a brow and you move towards the kitchen, hearing him moving almost silently behind you. 

"Now, did I give you enough time to get a good excuse together, or are you just going to save me the time?" You open the fridge as you speak, scanning until you find an unopened bottle of soda. 

Dave stays quiet for a second, but by the time he begins to open his mouth you've downed half your drink and started to walk off, pulling him behind you with his tie. "Come on."

The sounds of his shaky inhaling and exhaling is really all the background noise you want to hear, aside from the additional noises you won't even have to milk out of him by the time you actually get started with him. He's pretty much stripped down beside his shirt, because you know how much he likes that one shirt and how much he hates getting it dirty, though the cock ring should hold him off for a bit longer. It's almost a bit reminiscent of the first time, minus all the barking orders and whining Dave did. Now you get to call the shots, and if he tries to do anything he'll just drool more on himself. 

You've been on your laptop for around twenty minutes now talking to Roxy and Jake, pretty much ignoring him outside of a few snorts when he tries to wipe his face on his chest and cut some of the strings of saliva. Ugh, he's disgusting. Disgustingly yours, however. You put your messenger as away and put the computer aside, on the side table, and turn your full attention towards your brother. 

He doesn't even seem to notice you until you've kneeled down in front of him, his eyes seeming to plead for what was so easy to read from his face, dancing on the tip of his tongue. His hands clench as you trace your fingers around every place you know he loves being touched, his breath trying to hitch but only resulting in a choking noise and you roll your eyes as you loosen the straps so you can slip it off for just a moment, letting his jaw rest and you clean his face up. You're too soft on him and you hate it. 

A few more moments, and it's like the entire engagement never happened, besides the fact you untied his arms so you could flip him on his hands and knees. You go through the motions of prep and it's not before long before you feel him tightening around you and you have to grit your own teeth because that noise he just made alone can do so much for your teenage hormones, god be damned. 

His hips seem too feminine for his body but you don't care because as long as you can keep a good grip on them you're happy, it feels like forever since you've heard him be so vocal and he's not even /saying/ a single word and every time your nails dig into his skin, accidental or purposely, that noise he makes you want to cry out yourself, but you aren't going to because you're scared you won't hear him. 

He cums first, long white ribbon like strands on himself and the sheets, and he rides that out until you do the same thing, his knees buckling and your grip being the only thing that holds him upright. You only notice you've drawn some blood when you let him go and notice the dried spots on your fingers. It's not too bad, upon closer inspection, and he doesn't look like he cares too much anyway. 

You let him regain his balance and then you help him to the bathroom so he can shower while you change out the sheets and eventually clean yourself up. When you finally do deem yourself clean and ready for bed, Dave is already curled up on himself, snoring quietly as some old cartoon plays muted in the background. You smile gently, climbing on the bed and patting his head softly before pulling your laptop back in front of you. There's no sleep for the wicked, though you are glad he knows his place again.


End file.
